Chlorine
by Elendraug
Summary: I breathed, then dried you off. [ Slash, het, AU. Turkpile! Rufus Reno Elena Rude. ]


**Chlorine**

**by StarWolf **

**9/25/2005 **

**Title:** Chlorine   
**Author:** StarWolf (elendraug at yahoo dot com)   
**Fandom:** Final Fantasy VII   
**Rating:** R   
**Genre:** Ambience.   
**Pairing:** Turkpile! Rufus x Reno x Elena x Rude   
**Warnings:** Slash, het, A/U, violence...   
**Disclaimer:** Square-Enix's, not mine.   
**Distribution:** Don't archive it, please.   
**Summary:** I breathed, then dried you off.   
**Author's Notes:** For the people at Fall of Jupiter, especially Xel and Kinneas, who both requested it.

HEAVILY inspired by "Digital Bath" by The Deftones, which David Macintyre sent to me almost two years ago. I highly suggest you somehow get that song and listen to it while reading this, preferably with no light in the room other than your monitor.

It makes it trippier. You'll see. 8D Enjoy!

* * *

.x.

.x.

The lights were new. 

When Rufus had called for a pool to be constructed near the other Shinra facilities, it had been a backburner project; left mostly unfinished and unfurnished, the room was simple and slick. Four feet down, ten feet long, seven wide: rushed and worthless compared to the grandeur of more expensive designs borne of the spare change in Jack's pockets.

Months later, swimming in the silver sheen of the moon and city streetlights lost its appeal. Rufus wanted something more exotic, ethereal.

Helium and neon did the trick.

With unnatural illumination contrasting with the turquoise-lined tiles, Rufus can sink back into the meticulously filtered liquid, close his eyes, and still see the colours of fire.

.x.

.x.

Tonight is different. 

He doesn't go alone, this time; though silence is of the utmost importance ( _let nothing disturb the stillness_ ), he's allowing his most trusted assistants entrance into the building.

The air is humid, smelling of chemicals; condensation drips down Reno's face when he leans in closer, exhaling heat onto Rufus' pleased, parted lips and pressing warmth to his chest. Hydrogens plus oxygens drip down their skin as Reno drags sodden, dyed hair across Rufus' forehead. _Red and yellow are primary, after all,_ he thinks. Saliva's not terribly different than any other fluid that's ever entered the vice president's mouth; Reno's tongue is quick and smooth.

The pool reflects the electricity running through the tubes of noble gases ( _they refuse to bond with other elements_ ) as they flicker with faulty wiring. Elena's pretty and topless, quiet against Rude's side as he strokes her shoulder. Her body glides through the pool easily, hands outstretched and pushing back polarized molecules until she's mimicking her coworker. Delicate fingers trace absentminded lines along Rufus' arm, thread themselves through his hair, stroke against slight stubble. Her mouth lowers to his collarbone, and she tastes chlorine.

Even in the darkness, he diligently wears his sunglasses; the world is tinted strangely through the lenses. Rude is stronger than the other two; his hands are broader, and better suited for palming Rufus' back, digging into knotted muscle and easing the tension that pervades his body. It takes little effort to cause larger effects -- they're all close now, body temperatures adjusting to the proximity of each other and the atmosphere.

Rufus doesn't notice the shadow that splays out in wavering, hovering darkness across the surface. He doesn't hear the crisp staccato of a fingersnap and a sharp clap. He doesn't notice when Rude's hands push downward harder, when Elena's grip becomes too tight and inhibits circulation in his limb, when Reno's pressing against him more forcefully, lusty above and now below.

By the time he's aware of his inability to breathe, Rude and Elena are digging their nails into his flesh, holding him down. Reno swims beneath, kisses him again, and smirks in the murky darkness. All too soon, three pairs of hands keep him struggling, held captive and helpless -- no one will help.

Tseng's shoes clack along the edge of the pool, echoing off shimmering, shiny walls brightened by bulbs of expense. Everything's red and raw and he revels in it, quoting classic as the remaining Turks let their boss' body float to the top: murder in warm blood.

"Goodnight, sweet prince."

Reno and Rude, in sync as always:

"Coup d'état."

"Coup de grâce."

Elena.

"Water."


End file.
